The Clothes Make The Man
by Katie Havok
Summary: Tina's face provides a pearlescent backdrop to the colors streaking across the sky, a watercolor fresco of blue and red and orange as Newt watches first the fireworks, then her reaction to them.


This is a gift fic for the wonderful FandomNonsense on Ao3, who allowed me to write something of a companion piece to her story "Be Our Guest." This was originally published on Ao3 on July 23rd, 2017.

Also: **smut.** Not as much or as descriptive as my usual work, but it's better to forewarn you guys.

* * *

Tina's face provides a pearlescent backdrop to the colors streaking across the sky, a watercolor fresco of blue and red and orange as Newt watches first the fireworks, then her reaction to them.

Her pupils are blown even in the relative dark, her mouth parted on short, staccato breaths. A flash of tongue, there and gone again, and the sheen of sudden moisture on her pink lips encourages him to lean in and _taste_. He drinks from her as her fingers curl beneath the edge of his collar before tangling in his hair, tugging lightly at his roots when he deepens the kiss before slowly gentling it.

Newt tips her head back to kiss her throat and chin until her eyes find his, darkly imploring him for _more_. He searches her face questioningly until she nods, showing a small but dazzling smile before he gathers her close to Disapparate them to his bedroom.

Tina glances around with faint curiosity, but no censure, before heading toward his bed. Her eyes command him to follow when she crooks a finger while walking backward, sinking onto the mattress to tangle her hands in his clothing and drag him after. Newt goes willingly, landing on elbows and knees as his wide eyes drink in her face.

She plants her palms into the bed to lever herself upright before kissing him, effectively silencing any questions he may have while stealing his breath. They part with a gasp, drawing away to take in the other's face until she plucks at his bowtie to loosen it. It gives easily and her fingers are cool and steady as she loosens his collar.

"Is this alright?" Tina asks him while gripping the lapels of his fancy suit jacket. He covers her hands with his own in answer, urging the jacket over his shoulders. It falls with a whisper of fabric as her fingers slip between the buttons on his shirt. Fine cotton admits her hand, which she runs delicately over his chest before scratching lightly at his skin. He shivers, his eyes intent on her every movement until he shakes himself from his reverie.

Newt fingers midnight satin thoughtfully, palming the stack of her ribs beneath the zipper until she lays her hand on his. "Take it off," she breathes and lifts her head to kiss him. Her hand covers his pounding heart when he kisses her shoulder worshipfully before loosening her dress. She assists him by wriggling against the mattress, helping him peel off form-fitting bodice until her simple black slip and girdle are revealed, stark against the pale creaminess of her skin.

"Oh, _Tina_ ," Newt breathes while laying her dress aside. She watches him with mingled trepidation and hope, her skin made warm by the earthy shade of his bed sheets as he hovers over her. He kisses the delicate flange of her clavicle worshipfully before swirling his tongue into her suprasternal notch, breathing deeply of her scent as he lathers her with closed-mouthed pecks.

She makes a low, hungry sound while arching into him, raking his scalp with her nails. Then it's _his_ turn to moan deep in his throat, _his_ turn to shiver as she toys with his waistcoat buttons.

"How far?" he manages to choke out when she hauls him close. She kisses him deeply enough to rob the air from his lungs before answering.

"I've never gone _all_ the way," Tina breathes against his lips. "But I want to." A small peck when he gasps, her eyes bright in the dark. "Here. With you."

Newt exhales sharply. "Maybe not...not that," he mutters against her lips, and kisses her _hard_ when she whines. "But I can touch you. Make you feel good. If you'd like."

Tina hisses through clenched teeth while gathering his waistcoat and shirt. "Yes," she gasps into his mouth. He breaks away to kiss her cheek and jaw, and she makes small, hungry sounds while tugging his shirt from his slacks The remaining buttons go flying to admit her hand, which she brushes over his stomach and chest before molding to the curve of his back.

"Newt," she sighs, and he meets her eyes. " _Newt_ ," she says again, and he smiles faintly while kissing the line of her shoulder.

"Beautiful creatures aren't always best served by magic," he reassures her, lips never leaving her skin. She breathes a quick laugh while squeezing him before bringing her hands to his bicep.

"Will you take off your shirt?" He does her one better, shrugging out of his waistcoat and shirt to toss them aside without fanfare, watching as her fingers trace the expanse of his chest before sitting up to kiss him, her mouth unskilled but _eager_ as she drinks from him. "Strong," Tina murmurs appreciatively when they part, and Newt averts his eyes until his cheeks stop burning.

The angle of his head affords him a tantalizing view of her breasts, encased in black satin and lace as her chest works. He leans forward to pepper her chest and throat with small, wet kisses before nibbling at the strap of her foundation garment. Her head falls back with a long, shaky sigh as her fingers map his flecked and scarred back, scratching his skin as she reclines against the duvet, pulling him along with her.

"Can anyone hear us?" She asks as he kisses a slow path along her jaw, her voice skittering.

"No," Newt murmurs into her skin. "My rooms are soundproofed, as is the rest of the estate, and everyone is still at the party. I'm sure they're aware we've left, but…"

"Then _please_ touch me," she implores him on a slow exhale and loses her hands in his hair.

Newt leans in to suck her neck before following the path of his mouth with his fingers, watching goosebumps trail in his wake. Her skin is smooth beneath his hands, her scent of musk, jasmine, and champagne thick in his nose as he learns her curves. He nips the edge of her girdle before dipping to run his teeth along her black garter, moaning deep in his throat when the lace burns his tongue. Her silk stockings are cool against his lips when he kisses their edge, over and over until she trembles beneath him and her fingernails dig into his scalp.

His callouses rasp loudly when he pets the notch of her waist, before dipping to kiss the edge of her slip. She breathes his name as he peels away black satin, revealing her shapely thighs inch by tantalizing inch before he leans in to kiss their inner curve. She _jerks_ against him with a low, hungry sound, and he hides his chuckle in her skin while gathering her slip around her waist, going still when her hips and mound are exposed to the cool air of the bedroom.

She's as slender and pearly down _here_ as she is everywhere else, her sex a lovely, heart-shaped maw surrounded by thin, dark hair. He buries his groan in her thigh, her fingers squeezing his shoulder as she rocks her head to the side with a hiss before raising slightly wild eyes to his. There's a moment of perfect understanding between them when he exhales sharply against her before she widens her thighs in clear invitation and lays her head down.

He moves between them with a small, hungry sound, covering her with three rough fingers before dropping a kiss onto her mound. Her hips jerk when she voices a low moan, heels digging into the mattress. Newt wraps his arms around her thighs, allowing her to wrap her legs around him while angling himself across the bed to examine her from up close. She is swollen and dew-lapped upon inspection, small and pink and _perfect_ , and he isn't precisely sure where he finds the bravado when he runs out his tongue to _taste_ her, drawing along the length of her furrow as she tenses and mewls beneath him before gasping brokenly.

"Oh, _Mercy Lewis_ ," she mewls. "Newt, please—do that again!"

Newt huffs a shocked breath of laughter before using his thumbs to open her to him, examining her lovingly while leaning close. He pulls at her thoughtfully, longer this time, reveling in the way she mewls and jerks, the way her hips roll against his face. Her unique flavor coats his tongue as he delves deeper before finding the crowning jewel, the bundle of nerves at the apex of her quim that causes her to moan as her thighs clench around his head. He works it patiently, a series of quick flicks that see her gasping his name until her fingers clench in his hair hard enough to sting, her sharp heels leaving bruises in their wake.

"Easy," he murmurs into her folds. She exhales explosively but manages to relax, patting his head apologetically as she slides her legs from his shoulders. Newt straightens to kneel between her thighs, replacing his tongue with two fingers. He brushes her in ever-tightening spirals, watching her face before leaning in to kiss her neck and jaw, sure strokes never faltering.

"Lower your shift, can you do that?" he asks, a little breathlessly.

Tina moans low in her throat while shrugging the thin straps off, peeling away the filmy satin until her breasts spring free to his wondering eyes. They're just as perfect as he'd imagined, and Newt can't quite stifle his approving groan. Her eyes widen at the sound before growing heavy-lidded, her hips rocking against his fingers rhythmically as she strains toward release. She arches her back invitingly and Newt unthinkingly leans forward to capture a perfect, pink nipple between his teeth to circle with his tongue.

Her back arches off the mattress as she shudders, fingers once more burying in his hair. She groans something that may be his name or a plea to some unknown deity as her hips tremble. Newt purrs into her skin as his fingers press harder, stroke faster until her hips and stomach are pulsing against him regularly and her center seems to surge against his fingertips.

Tina gasps his name, and he lifts his head to meet her eyes as the part of her he touches first _swells_ , then heats up beneath his fingertips. Her eyelids flicker in warning as her back bows and she's there, panted iterations of his name interspersed with pleas as she pulsates rhythmically. He focuses his angled brushes against the tightest part of her as she surrenders to release until her hips crawl away from his hand and her breath comes in static bursts.

"Newt, _Newt_ ," she mewls, and he relents, fingers falling still as her chest heaves in stuttering gasps, her hips still rocking with orgasm.

Newt kisses her back to earth, her mouth sweet and salty against his before he drags his lips over her chest to her breasts, which he lathers with kisses. Tina calms in increments until she can meet his eye, her gaze liquid and sated in a way that sears through him.

She sits up without warning, displacing his hands and causing her breasts to jiggle fetchingly. He reaches out to touch, palming their slight curve before kneading them. Her nipples pebble into hard points as he strokes her, and she watches him with parted lips before dragging her fingers down to his navel.

"Your turn," Tina murmurs, and the words sink through his skin to settle into his core, winding him tight as he shivers. She grins while gently pushing him back, shouldering him into the pillows. He goes willingly, reclining against the sheets until she's straddling his hips and watching him curiously.

Above him, Tina is a debauched creature of kiss-swollen lips and tangled hair, flushed skin, and damp curves, and he takes her in with adoring eyes until her hands fall to his waist.

She walks her fingers along the edge of his slacks before finding the top button, popping it open with a coy smirk while dropping a wink. Newt screws his eyes shut when she reaches down and _squeezes_ what she finds, making an approving sound deep in her throat. His eyes fly open as she frees the second button, followed by the third and fourth, before tugging gently at his waist. He lifts his hips to assist her in peeling off his slacks before she tosses them aside.

His underwear flash white in the dark of the room. Absurd heat crawls into his cheeks as she leans on her haunches to examine him, cool hands stroking his thighs and stomach until she stretches to kiss him. "It's okay," Tina murmurs against his trembling lips. "I've never done this before but you can show me what to do." She kisses him deeply. "Can't you?"

Newt frames her face with his hands while sitting up, his fingers brushing through her tangled hair as he kisses her nose and cheeks. "Only if that is what you wish," he murmurs. "I have no intentions of pushing you into something you don't want to do, Tina."

Tina smirks against his mouth. "Well, you just made _me_ feel good," she purrs. Newt moans helplessly, and she strokes his hair. "It's only fair, isn't it?" He nods, a little frantically, and she presses his shoulders to urge him flat while hovering over him, teasingly brushing his chest with her nipples. "So show me," she finally says. "Show me how to make _you_ feel good."

His hands tremble only slightly as they cover hers. She tuts while leaning in to kiss his chest, flicking her tongue out to taste a cluster of freckles over his collarbone as he shivers beneath her. He makes a low sound when she fingers the buttons on his underwear, freeing them before stroking his knuckles. Tina flicks her eyes to his face while parting the white linen until she can slip a hand inside to circle him curiously.

He bites back a moan, her eyes falling to his navel as she palms him before returning to his face. She makes to tug off his underwear but he trembles so violently that she casually redirects her hand. He sighs in thanks and Tina flashes a small grin while squeezing him, her smile slipping away when his breath first catches, then returns in short gasps.

Newt exhales sharply when he covers her hand with his own. He can't bring himself to meet her eyes as he adjusts her grip, encouraging her to squeeze the base before easing up and over, circling the tip at a tight angle before sliding back down.

She nods after a few repetitions of this, watching his face carefully as she falls into a rhythm until he leans back, his shoulders simultaneously tight and relaxed against the stack of pillows.

Newt watches her face through hazy, narrowed eyes as she strokes him. Tina alternates her attention between his face and the part of him she holds, occasionally changing up her rhythm and timing to hear his breath hitch before falling back into the pace he'd shown her. She switches hands when her wrist grows tired, before leaning close enough to scrutinize the part of him she can see, curiously tracing it with a finger as he holds his breath.

It doesn't take long for his eyes to drift closed as steady waves of pleasure ebb through him, inspired by her tender, if somewhat inexpert, ministrations. Tina leans close enough for him to feel her short, shallow breaths as he draws inexorably closer to the edge until his fists curl into the sheets and his spine draws tight. She senses his proximity to release and shifts her focus to speed up and refine her movements. He draws a shaky breath before she leans up to kiss him, effectively stealing what little air he'd gathered.

He whines into her mouth as she massages his lips with her own until she leans away to add her other hand to her ministrations. He rocks his head back with an unselfconscious moan when she squeezes him while stroking faster, his hips rising regularly off the mattress to keep pace. Tina makes a delighted sound at that, lips parting on a happy sigh, and that sight alone is almost enough to undo him.

She meets his eyes to breathe his name then, and his rhythm stutters as his core seems to _open_ , all at once, and heat floods his veins. He moans long and low as his hips jolt with the shock of release, her fingers squeezing his length as he throbs before collapsing into the mattress. She slows her movements to a halt as his skin twists into goosebumps, before flinging his forearm over his eyes to pant through recovery.

"Tina," Newt manages, and she makes a questioning sound. He stretches a heavy hand out to her, landing on the swell of her hip, and pets her skin when she releases him to reach for her wand.

"You didn't warn me it would be so _messy_ ," Tina chides gently. Newt snorts a shocked breath of laughter before brushing his sweaty hair from his forehead.

"I didn't know you weren't aware," he mumbles in self-defense. Tina arches a sardonic eyebrow and he looks away sheepishly while clarifying. "I mean, I thought you _knew_ there was a certain, ah, level of mess inherent to the act. I didn't realize that you—that you hadn't—"

"Well, I certainly have _now_ ," she says softly. He braves meeting her eyes to find her smiling gently, the dimple hidden in her right cheek on full display. "But I still would have appreciated some warning."

Newt clears his throat. "Well, now you know for...next time," he murmurs. She quirks her other brow at him as his face floods with heat. "Assuming there is a next time," he hastily amends.

"There will be," Tina promises. She shifts until she's pressed against his side, her fingers dragging over his chest and stomach before scratching lightly at his forearms. He smiles at her gratefully while stroking her hair.

"Will you stay?" he mumbles. Tina hesitates, and he kisses her forehead before circling her nose with the tip of his own. "I promise that it won't be a scandal. No one will know, they'll all be far too drunk tonight, and much the worse for wear tomorrow." He cards his fingers through her hair. "I'd like to hold you in my arms until morning."

She sags into him, suddenly exhausted. "Of course I'll stay," she breathes. Her smile is like the stars coming out at night, bright enough to warn him from within. He kisses her in thanks before tucking her into his side, easing her beneath his faded blanket as she wraps around him.

Tina kisses his wrist before closing her eyes, her breathing already slowing into a steady rhythm. "Newt? Thank you."

He watches her face in awed fascination before brushing a curl of hair from her brow.

"Of course, Tina," he breathes, but she doesn't hear him because she's already asleep.

* * *

Early morning sun slants through a crack in the curtains as the two people in the bed, one simultaneously dark and fair, the other ruddy and freckled, sleep blissfully unaware.

The woman with unruly red hair and a wide, smiling mouth performs an odd little dance in place, an expression of unbridled joy, before tiptoeing across the room. She takes in the slumbering couple, twined together in repose, before clucking her tongue tenderly.

She's careful not to step on any of their scattered clothing as she makes her silent way to the bedside. The urge to reach out and touch is nearly overwhelming, but she resigns herself to lovingly tucking the blankets around their shoulders.

The man shifts slightly, murmuring in his sleep. The dark haired woman responds by pulling him closer, slotting her head beneath his chin as they both settle.

Delighted, the watcher doesn't bother trying to contain her smile as she sets two vials of hangover remedy on the bedside table before taking one last long, joyous look.

Elated, Louise Scamander leaves her younger son and his lover to their rest, crossing the room on buoyant feet while making plans for a second wedding—and sooner rather than later, if her hunch proves true. She finds, as she secures the door behind her, that she doesn't mind this possibility.

Smiling and made light with joy, she greets her husband with a lingering kiss before going about her day.


End file.
